Trooper Tales — page 232: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

216 ‘The Story of a Cavalry Horse. boys in blue led him away to the Black Horse troop, and te in the cavalry service began with a deep, delicious drink at the watering-trough and a nosebag full of fresh grain. Old cavalrymen are not always charitable to a recruit. Old cavalry horses are never hospitable to a stranger on _ the picket line. If placed at a distance, he is only re- garded with distrust ; if placed within reach of the heels of the veteran chargers—well, the stranger will kick back if he is spunky enough. Friendships are mighty on a picket line, but they are not molded in a day. “Ah, you’re a trim little black baby,” said a tall trooper close to the ear of the dark stranger the first night. His words made the colt very happy. The cavalryman gently slapped the glossy breast. “There is blood in your veins, my little man; and your eyes are as black and bright as a squaw maiden’s. Why, your chest sticks out like a game chicken’s! Quit breathing on my neck, young- ster. Don’t you know that isn’t polite? “By jove, I like you, little black man! Do you sup- pose you’re heavy enough to dance around the parade- ground with a big fellow like me on your back? If you were mine, I’d have your black sides shining like a piece of oiled silk in ten days. Whoever taught you to go nos- ing about a fellow’s neck and ears? I suppose they treated you pretty rough up there in the corral, but you didn’t lose your nerve, did you, kid? Why, you’re as gentle as a young girl with her big sister’s first baby! GoOmMmichbooks.Gco